


Cabaret

by grimorie



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, F/F, Gen, Undercover, undercover as a model
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 22:11:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2749001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimorie/pseuds/grimorie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Team's new Number is a model and someone has to go undercover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cabaret

**Author's Note:**

  * For [offkilter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/offkilter/gifts).



> Set after 4x07 - Honor Among Thieves and before 4x08 - Point of Origin.
> 
> This isn't about a cabaret but it is written for entertainment and because of this cute [fanart](http://bluefinch-universe.tumblr.com/post/104802157998/no-poi-tonight-at-all) and a prompting from Offkilter... which turned out a lot differently than I first started.
> 
> Oh, and for anyone interested, [this](http://uxiaschaoticmind.tumblr.com/post/99968915908) is what Shaw is wearing.

"How," Miss Shaw's voice sounded like gravel being run through a grinder, "was  _I_  conscripted into this."

It wasn't a question but Harold treated it as such, "You were the only likely choice, Miss Shaw."

"I don't even fit the height requirement!"

Harold considered this, this was true. "They were desperate."

"Stop moving!" a voice over the comms said. Even through the comms Harold heard the hustle and bustle of movement in the area around Miss Shaw.

There was a moment's silence and then, "Why can't Root do this? She has the height!"

" _Unfortunately,_ " Miss Groves voice floated in the comms at the most opportune time, " _I'm not as busty as you are, Sameen. Take that as a compliment. Unless you want to see John in his tighty whities._ "

"Ew, no."

" _Don't tell me you're self conscious_ ," Miss Groves taunted and Harold sensed it was nearing the time he stepped in.

There was a snort over the line. "Please."

" _Maybe you need help walking like a model_."

"You don't need to worry about that," even through the comms Harold could hear how smug Miss Shaw's tone was, "I can  _work_  it."

" _Don't I know it_ ," Miss Groves said in low voice.

It was definitely time to step in, "Miss Groves."

At the same time he heard Miss Shaw growl: " _Root._ "

This only seemed to amuse Miss Groves and she laughed.

Suddenly, there was a sound of flesh hitting flesh and then a yelp. Alarmed, Harold stood up, "Miss Shaw?"

"Next time you try to slap my butt, you're gonna lose an arm," Harold heard Miss Shaw say.

A voice that sounded like he was barely out of his teen years yelled, "Lemme go!"

Harold waited, he knew Miss Shaw would be levelling her most terrible glare at the offending youth but it didn't seem like Miss Shaw was letting him go too.

"Warn him off, Miss Shaw and let him go," Harold advised, he felt frustrated that he couldn't actually see if she followed his orders or not. Miss Shaw was adamant about not placing cameras in the dressing room and Harold didn't press.

There were more words exchanged, too low voiced for Harold to catch but the next thing Harold heard was Miss Groves chuckling. " _That was creative_."

"I'm going off comms now," Miss Shaw announced.

"Miss Shaw--?"

But Harold was met with silence.

" _Don't worry Harry, Shaw is just changing and chatting up our Number_." There was a pause, Harold pulled up a camera and focused on Root. She was sitting on the front seat, dressed like she was one of the patrons. She dismissed his worries about ticket prices and told Harold the fashion show wasn't Victoria's Secret show so it shouldn't be that expensive. Veronica's Closet show may not be as prestigious but it still set back their slush fund. Harold saw Miss Groves fiddle with her phone. 

" _She's cute._ " There was a not so playful edge to her voice that reminded Harold, uncomfortably, of the time Miss Shaw worked with Tomas Koroa. Harold quickly tapped on his keyboard and the camera zoomed in and he saw Miss Groves fiddle with her phone.

"Miss Groves!" Harold snapped, "Did you put a camera in the dressing area?"

" _Shaw said she didn't want_  your  _cameras, she didn't say anything about mine._ " Root's voice was innocent.

"I'm quite sure she didn't mean yours either."

" _Oh, relax, Harry at least one of us has eyes_."

In the driest voice he could muster, Harold said, "Somehow, I don't feel that comforted."

" _Oh, look, the show is starting! Later, Harry._ "

* * *

Root considered the fortuitous series of events that led her to sitting in the front sit of one of the third hottest lingerie fashion shows in New York. 

She was a fashion blogger, at least that was what her new identity was, but her new identity's blog didn't have the cachet to get free tickets for the event so she still needed to purchase the tickets. Hence, Harold's griping. Privately Root agreed that it was inconvenient, especially since they had limited funds.

Root didn't usually involve herself in the Team's quaint little Number problem but the Machine was silent for a while now, since they torched OTPS. She must want Root to lay low because the only message she got after receiving her new identity was that she needed to hang out in the Team's new subterranean hide out.

The Number turned out to be Elena Stasova who shared a name with a Russian communist revolutionary, and who also happened to be one of Veronica's Angel's models. A clear ripoff of the much more popular Victoria's Secret Angels. Root wondered how Veronica's Closet wasn't sued for infringement yet.

Root was pulled out from her reverie when the lights dimmed and the stage lights came to life in a cacophony of colors. The show started and a band, some indie band started playing. They were, to Root's surprise, impressive enough to keep everyone's attentions as Veronica's Angels made their cat walk. All willowy and tall women in lingerie.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Root glanced and saw Tall, Dark, and Neanderthal take the seat next to her. "Detective Riley, what are you doing here?"

"There was a tip that a crime was about to happen," John told her.

"I guess that badge comes in handy sometimes." Root said with as much scorn as she could muster after all in a different life,  _she_  was FBI.

"People like to cooperate with the police."

Root leaned close and pretended to mime even though he was speaking in her good ear, "You have to speak up, John, I can't hear you!"

The drum beat picked up, and the singer started speaking, "Good evening, New York City. I'm Rachel Floss, we're Silver Pixies, and these are the 2014 Veronica's Angels."

It was chance that Root looked at the stage, just at the precise instant Sameen Shaw made her entrance. Root inhaled sharply, it felt like all the air rushed out of the room. Sameen stood in tall black stiletto heels and her entire 'look' was an exercise in simplicity and lace. Just dark lingerie and darker stockings, and her hair. Her hair usually tied back in a practical pony tail was.... everywhere.

And then Sameen started walking.

When Shaw claimed she knew how to 'work it', she wasn't lying. Because Sameen  _worked_  it. Sameen strutted down the runway, hips swaying to the tune Root could barely hear.

Sameen posed at the end of the runway and just as she turned, she moved her head and caught Root's eyes, the serious fierce expression gave way to a flirty wink, and Root realized her lungs started to hurt. She sucked in air and just like a whirlwind Sameen strutted away, leaving Root breathless.

"You okay there?"

Root snapped out of her daze to see John smirking at her, Root found herself laughing but it sounded high pitched. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Suddenly John made a move to point at Root's face, "You got some drool..." Root batted his hand away, "there, right there."

Root knew she wasn’t drooling but she still found herself wiping the edge of her mouth with the back of her hand. John sat back with a self satisfied smirk.

Just as Root contemplated ways to drive the heel of her shoes into the soft part of John's foot, Harold suddenly said: " _I'm getting some weird readings from_

Just as Root contemplated ways to drive the heel of her shoes into the soft part of John's foot, Harold suddenly said: " _I'm getting some weird readings from backstage._ "

And then, another voice, " _Tally-ho, folks. I found our perp and he has a bomb._ "

John and Root immediately stood up, not caring that they ruffled some feathers at their sudden exit. John bulldozed through the backstage security, flashing his badge as he did so. There was a lot of commotion backstage: models in various stages of undress, makeup artists retouching makeup, stylists primping hair and right at the edges... there was a fight.

"There!" John pointed out unnecessarily since Root was already running to the direction of the fight.

John had longer legs than Root and he turned the corner first and Root heard Shaw shout, "Disarm the bomb, John!"

And then as she turned she saw Shaw barefoot, still in her black lingerie swing a knife at the happy little bomber. He cried out as Shaw's knife found flesh, Shaw didn't hesitate and pressed her advantage until the bomber fell on his face with Shaw twisting his arm right behind him.

Shaw's stockinged right foot kept the man down.

"Are you just going to stare?" Root jolted back and realized Shaw was glaring at her, "Or are you gonna help?"

"I like the view," Root said but went forward to help. Shaw rolled her eyes.

John disarmed the bomb, it was amateur work and Root could rig a better one in her sleep but it still had enough charge that it could have hurt a lot of people. John flashed his badge again when the crowd of models and the stage hands noticed John cuffing the bomber, that stopped work for a few seconds before everyone returned to running a show.

" _I suppose the show must, indeed, go on._ " Harold observed when Root noted how everyone acted like nothing happened.

The perpetrator turned out to be a disgruntled lover and failed model and he blamed all his recent bad luck on Elena, their Number, dumping him.

"I can't believe he would do such a thing!" Elena told Shaw as Fusco hauled lover boy out of the backstage.

"You guys were in a lingerie fashion show and you didn't invite me?" Fusco complained.

"You told me it wasn't cool to invite you to these things," Root heard John say.

"It wasn't cool to invite me to shoot outs! A fashion show's different!"

"Why, Lionel, I didn't know you were such patron of the arts."

Root was distracted from John and Fusco's banter when Elena let out a little sob and leaned her head on Shaw's shoulder, which was a hilarious since Shaw was shorter than Elena, especially without heels on. Except Root didn't find it funny.

Shaw said something that sounded Russian, and Root regretted opting to study a new coding stack instead of learning Russian because the next thing she knew Elena the model started laughing.

"What's so funny?" Root asked, popping up next to Shaw. As usual, Shaw didn't startle but Shaw went still then gave Root a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, Sameen just told me a funny joke." Elena said in a thick Russian accent.

"Really? I didn't know Sameen knew how to tell jokes!" She said brightly, affecting a friendly demeanor. "I'm Ida, I'm a fashion blogger and a  _friend_  of Sameen."

Again, this drew a sharp look from Shaw but Root ignored her in favor of smiling gamely at Elena.

"You have a good friend, Ida," Elena told her then waved her hand in front of her face, "I should not cry, I still have to walk the runway. It was nice to meet you, Ida."

"You too, Elena," Root said then turned to Shaw who had slipped into a robe.

"I'm gonna change."

"Where did your knife come from?" Root asked, remembering the knife flashing in and out of the fight. She remembered Shaw complaining how she couldn't even find a place to carry a firearm.

Shaw stooped down and gathered the black stiletto heels, she slung them over her shoulders by the strap then looked at Root through her glorious hair, and said in a low voice with a smirk that promised many things, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

 

\--- ### ---

**Author's Note:**

> There's an Easter Egg here, and if there's any 90s kid the knock off Victoria's Secret Fashion show will be very familiar since its taken from a show called [Veronica's Closet](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Veronica's_Closet) starring Kristie Alley.
> 
> If I remember correctly, Veronica would be tickled pink (or terrified) at the shenanigans going on in her fashion show!


End file.
